“See there, a mouth like a basket, which knows how to speak wrong and contrary.”
“And thy mouth,” said the Gaviota to Momo, with a fury which this time she could not control, “and thy horrible mouth, which cannot extend from one ear to the other because that thy face is so large it is fatigued when half way over.”
Momo, for his only reply, sang in three different tones—
“Gaviota! Gaviota! Gaviota!”
“Romo! Romo! Romo!” sang Marisalada in her magnificent voice.
“Is it possible,” said Stein to his linnet, “that you notice what Momo says expressly to enrage you. These witticisms are stupid and gross, but without wickedness.”
“It must seem to you, Don Frederico, that this must be very stupid,” replied the Gaviota; “and to inform you that I have no desire to support this lout harder than a stone, I go.”
Upon this, the Gaviota went away; Stein followed her.
“You are a profligate,” said Maria to her grandson; “you have more spleen in your heart than good blood in your veins. You owe respect to women, villain gosling! there is not in the village one more wicked or more detested than thou.”
“You are in your turn tainted,” replied Momo, “with the beauty of this sea-magpie, who have put my ears in the condition you see! All others, according to your ideas, are gross people. This agua mala (polypus) bewitches you. See then a gaviota (sea-gull) which reads and writes! Has any one ever seen that? She does not employ herself all day but to grumble as water hisses on the fire; she does not cook for her father, who is obliged to prepare his own meals; she does not take care of his linen, and it is on you falls the work. You nourish a serpent.”